


Drive me home

by lemonlovely



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Eve, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Neil Hargrove is His Own Warning, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Some Humor, The Ford Ranger, byeee, neil hargrove was flayed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonlovely/pseuds/lemonlovely
Summary: Steve's mother always orders an oversized Christmas Tree for their high ceiling living room every holiday season. That's when his parents will roll into town for their big New Years Eve get together party with friends from the country club.Until then, Steve's on his own.And he doesn't know anybody else with a truck to help him pick up the tree - until Max suggests Billy using his dad's inherited, beat up old Ford Ranger.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 11
Kudos: 60
Collections: Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2020





	Drive me home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Olsies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olsies/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, Olsies! I hope you enjoy, I really loved writing this for you :D

“Billy. Please. Just take the truck,” Susan said as she continued kneading the cookie dough on the wooden cutting board, her delicate, bird-like wrists and forearms coated in flour up to her elbows – pale pink sleeves of her blouse rolled all the way up.

She glanced over the shoulder of her pinstripe pink shirt and the strap of her ruffled apron to stare at Billy where he was leaning back on two legs of one of the kitchen table chairs, scowling over at Max. Her own chair was pushed in close to the rickety old table, her copper sheen of hair pushed back into a messy ponytail as she stuck her tongue out between her teeth – focusing on squeezing the absolutely grotesque, pastel pink frosting out of the cloth piping bag. She’d somehow gotten it all over her face, like she was getting ready to go into a career as a clown. Billy scowled even harder over at her. She was such a little dumbass, and her cookies looked like shit. He turned his burning blue gaze away from the half burnt sugar cookies Max was making up to stare back at Susan, heaving a low sigh through his nose. The chair hovered on it’s back two legs before he let it tip forward with a dull thump as it landed back on four.

“Don’t wanna take the truck, Susan,” he said, shaking his head and scratching absently at the side of his neck, where his hair was finally starting to grow longer – the curls were starting to itch where they hit at the nape of it. It had taken months for it to get as long as it was.

Susan smashed the huge glob of dough onto the wooden board and lugged up the massive, half cracked wooden rolling pin. It had been her grandmother’s, she’d told them. One day it would be Max’s. Max had told her she was thrilled. Billy’d almost laughed. Susan started to attack the dough with it, attempting to roll it flat with both arms, before she wiped at her forehead with her wrist, smearing more flour.

“Your father wouldn’t have minded,” she tried.

Billy snorted at that, leaning forward to fiddle with one of the little glass bottles of chocolate sprinkles. No – no he was pretty sure his old man WOULD have minded if he’d still been around. He definitely didn’t think Neil would have wanted Billy driving around in his old beast of a monster Ford truck.

Saying Billy’s pops _would_ have minded was an understatement. Y’know. If he’d still been alive. If he hadn’t been one of the first to be flayed – the second he fucked around with Billy, and the Shadow hadn’t liked it. One of the first to melt into a puddle of goo and join the greater part of a monster, than what he’d already been for Billy. It was…weird. He didn’t feel gone. He felt like he was just…waiting. Waiting to show back up, just like the Shadow was. Because monsters didn’t just go away.

Billy still wasn’t sure that he believed Maxine and her little nerd brigade’s tall fuckin’ tales about alternate dimensions and sky alien’s and demented flower-faced dogs, and bipedal venus fly traps waiting to gobble up unsuspecting children, fishermen, and road-kill deer.

It had felt a lot more like losing his mind. Maybe he really just belonged over in Pennhurst, and he’d just gone fucking serial killer on half the town just like the NightStalker out in Cali.

Either way, the idea of getting behind the wheel of the ancient tan Ford truck, ‘built in America, built to last,’ not like those ‘foreign pieces of shit’ like his old man would have said… well, it just made his skin crawl.

He couldn’t imagine wrapping his hands, dry palms pierced with star-shaped scars like some werewolf in an old horror movie, around the pockmarked vinyl steering wheel. The thought of it alone made him queasy.

Neil hadn’t had a will. Probably hadn’t thought he was gonna die so soon, Billy figured. If he’d survived ‘Nam, he’d survived thus far, even with all of the beers and the cigarettes stacked up, and the heavy red meat diet, what was to say he was going to die at the early age of 46? Nobody would have forseen it. A healthy man, they would have said. Didn’t account for Billy – or the Shadow.

Max stared up at Billy from under her pale lashes as she grabbed for the forest green piping tube, squeezing a garish blob onto her cookie. They were supposed to look like Christmas ornaments, she’d said.

“Well Steve needed help getting the tree, right?” she asked.

“Uh-huh,” Billy said.

“Well – it’s not like you could get it into his Beamer, and he said it’s too large to be strapped onto the roof of it?”

“Uh-huh,” Billy said.

“And you said you’d help,” she said it like it was a statement, not a question.

Billy shrugged. He didn’t know that he’d said it in those exact words, but somehow that was sort of what had come of the conversation between the two of them. And now here he was trying to figure out the hell he was supposed to help Harrington lug some hulked out Christmas Tree on steroids across half of goddamn Hawkins.

"More like you _volunteered_ me for it," Billy scowled at Max. After that, he'd just had to go along.

Why did Harrington even need a tree so big?

 _Because it needs to fill the space_ , Harrington had said.

 _Who says?_ Billy’d asked.

 _My mom,_ Harrington’d replied.

_Then why the fuck doesn’t she do it?_

_They’re not gonna be in town – they won’t be back until New Years. They throw this big party for New Years Eve at the house, and the tree is always up for that. Usually they have someobody deliver it, but uh…the guy that did the deliveries…sort of died?_

And damn if that wasn’t Billy’s fault, too, probably. If somebody had died recently, yeah. That was probably it. Guilt had twisted hard and sharp behind his breastbone, guilt he didn’t want to feel, but it seemed like it was all he ever felt lately – tasted like ash on his tongue. The anger had just…petered out of him. Guilt and this numb, hollowed out sort of despair were all that were left. And besides that –

_You’re alone for Christmas?_

_Well. Well yeah, kinda. But it’s not a big deal, I mean, I got invited over to the Henderson’s for Christmas dinner. That’s what I did last year._

That's around when Billy had said he'd do it.

Because it wasn't the same, and even Billy knew that. Shitty family or not, his dad had always been a stickler about having to be around on Christmas and Thanksgiving, even if he was usually beating the shit out of Billy, especially during school breaks. It made him think of when he’d been younger, in that hazy area between when his mom had fucked off and his dad had gotten hitched to Susan. Two bleak, dark years – years when the heat hadn’t been paid because his dad hadn’t been able to hold a solid job, when the apartment out in San Diego had been bitter, black and cold. There hadn’t been a tree or present, not that there really had been much of that in the years before, not like they could afford it.

But his mom had always done her best.

Now that Neil was with Susan and he’d gotten his act together with the job, Christmas was more like maybe Christmas was supposed to be. They had a real tree, not an old aluminum one from the sixties his mom had had forever – even if he kind of missed that tree when the holiday rolled around. Susan baked Christmas cookies where his mom had bought him Hershey Kisses for his stocking on Christmas Day, while his dad had put toothpaste and shampoo in it and said it had to last him the whole year. Merry Christmas.

Susan was a helluva lot different than his mom. And it was weird. She had to have a real tree, and she decorated the shit out of it – out of the whole place, even if they weren’t doing that much better financially. She was crafty in a strange way by making a lot out of nothing, like those popcorn garlands and ornaments out of jingle bells, and collecting pine boughs from the bottom of the tree into vases with babies breath. And he missed his mom like he missed an old ghost limb…he could still feel it sometimes, the tingle of it there like it still had blood flowing through the veins. But then he would realize that it wasn’t there at all. It was gone. She was gone. And that was her choice.

And Susan was…Susan. But she was still here. She hadn’t kicked Billy the fuck out after his old man had bit the dust – after Billy had offed him, even if she didn’t know that side of it. She thought he’d died in the mall collapse and fire just like everybody else did. But she’d let him stay in the house that was now in her name – she didn’t leave it, and didn’t kick Billy to the curb or any shit like that – even if he’d thought she would. Fast. Instead, he was still at the house. With Christmas music playing from the record player in the background, and everything smelling like Christmas sugar cookies and saccharine sweet frosting, with the underlying, strong scent of pine. His old man wasn’t storming around the place, glaring at Billy like he should be hiding his face in his room, and shit talking Susan’s cooking like Billy usually wanted to, and putting out his cigarettes in the cookies – or switching the music over to the radio so he could listen to the news.

It felt like some sort of a surreal world, one that Billy had never lived in. He’d only heard about it.

And Harrington…he was over there in that big fucking house on his own. All of his little friends, like that dumbass curly headed kid Henderson, and the Wheeler bitch brigade, they were all at home with their families, too. And Billy didn’t care, he told himself he didn’t, but he knew it bummed Harrington out. Even if he didn’t say it. That chick he was always hanging out with – the one with the short hair, who Billy thought might have been part of band back in school, but he couldn’t remember her name – Harrington said had gone out of state to go visit her mom.

She lived with her dad here in town, but she visited her mom every other year apparently. He’d seemed down about that, too. Billy wondered, more often than not, he guessed – if Harrington had the hots for her. Probably did. He’d been mooning over her a lot back when Billy’d stopped in at Scoops over the summer, along with any other bitch with big tits and a nice ass that walked up to the counter. And Billy – Billy only had one of those things. And Harrington hadn’t looked at him like he looked at them.

Billy didn’t want to feel bad for him. He knew Harrington wouldn’t WANT him to feel bad or him. But – Billy didn’t know. He felt like after…everything. After _everything_ that had happened and that girl, that girl…Eleven, rooting around in his head, he’d come back from the dead or whatever the fuck as…as somebody who actually sort of…gave more of a shit. He guessed he was paying more attention or whatever, and when he was around Harrington he knew…he knew that he just felt a little something more than just the all-devouring despair that had haunted him for six months.

He wanted Harrington to feel something more when he was with Billy, too.

And this was one of the first things that he felt like he could actually help with – a reason to spend more time with Harrington, an excuse to get around him. Billy’d just been screwing around at Family Video with Max because they were going to try their luck and see if they could rent He-Man and She-Ra: A Christmas Special for them, and It’s a Wonderful Life for Susan. She’d given them cash and everything and sent them over.

They’d gone to Family Video a few times before, but Billy hadn’t said much. He guessed he hadn’t said much in general since his miraculous rise from the grave or whatever – the new ‘Zombie Boy’ in town, depending on who you asked. But two days before Christmas he’d been standing there thinking everything was going to be checked out and Susan was gonna be shit out of luck for ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’

“Hey Billy,” Max had said.

“What, shitstain,” Billy had muttered as he poked through the ‘CHRISTMAS’ section, carefully not staring over at Harrington behind the counter where he was not-so-subtly staring right back at them.

“You know you’re kind of like George Bailey kind of – “ she started,

“The fuck I am,” Billy spit out in disgust, glancing at him narrowly from the corner of his eye. He could feel the heat of Harrington’s gaze on the back of his neck, but the guy hadn’t said anything to him yet – just a hello to Max, and a big look at Billy, chewing on his lower lip. He’d told them Merry Christmas if that meant anything. “In what way am I a suicidal banker – “

“I just mean, you know, you saw what death could mean or be like, and – you know you came back and your heart grew three sizes or something and – like El was your Guardian Angel, and - “

He had a sharp, vibrant flash of Eleven’s face beneath him – smeared with blood, lit up with the rainbow colors of each painful, bruising, burning firework that hit him. No, not him – It. The monster. The Shadow. Billy put down the case he was holding with an impatient, rushed movement.

“That’s the goddamn grinch, fuckhead, stop while you’re ahead or I’m leaving you here and you can skate home.”

She’d gaped at him, “But it’s SNOWING.”

“No shit.”

“You suck. Fine. You’re not like George Bailey. Are you happy? Hey, can I go to the arcade for a little? I wanna see if any of the guys are there.”

Billy sighed low through his nose and gave a half rolled shrug with one shoulder – The Palace was just next door to Family Video. It’s not like she had to go far.

“Knock yourself out,” he’d muttered and turned back to try finding It’s a Wonderful Life.

“Okay pick me out a candy, I’ll be right back,”

Billy flipped her off and she scampered off out of the store with a gush of chilled wind from outside and a flurry of snow, bells chiming on the door.

Harrington’d cleared his throat from the counter. “Hey, what’re you looking for?”

When Billy glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Harrington was walking towards him. His heart immediately picked up the pace, hammering away in the soft side of his throat. He swallowed, his mouth instantly dry as he turned back towards the shelf. He was NOT saying He-Man and She-Ra: A Christmas Special. No fucking way. That had been all Max’s idea anyways, he told himself.

“It’s a Wonderful Life, for Maxine’s ma. Watches it every year, told her it was probably checked out.”

“Oh – well I mean yeah it was, sorry, but it was checked back in earlier! I just haven’t rewound it yet,” Harrington slowly grinned, showing a peek of bright white teeth. Billy’s heart stuttered in his chest like a nervous, tizzy thing. “You’re totally in luck. Hang on, just gimme a sec.”

Harrington wandered back over behind the counter, and started to sort through a short stack of black, clamshell VHS cases with the titles scrawled on the sides. He picked through them, tilting his head, that pretty dark brown hair flopping over his forehead almost boyishly. Billy followed after him more slowly, shoving his hands in the pockets of the winter jacket Susan had bought for him.

Last winter, he hadn’t worn anything more than a hoodie under his jean jacket, or his leather bomber – but this year had already proved to be different. He just couldn’t hack the cold anymore. Not like he’d been a lot better last year – he’d just grit his teeth through it, and dreamed of the California sun. But this year it…it was different. He was different. And HE liked the cold. It made Billy think of…of ice baths and dunked beneath the bitter bite of frigid winter in the middle of July. He couldn’t be cold. So he’d worn the jacket, and swallowed his pride – even if it was ugly as shit. He figured he didn’t need to care so much about how he looked anymore…his body had been destroyed anyways. There wasn’t anything to see. He didn’t want anyone to look at him. Except…except for maybe Harrington. But that would never happen.

Or at least not until that moment. And Harrington was looking right at him.

”Here it is, found it,” the other boy had held up the case and gave it a little wiggle in midair. “I’ll rewind it for you.”

Harrington popped it into the horizontal, black tape rewinder, clicking it closed, and pressed the << button with the practiced ease of someone who had done it a thousand and one times. He glanced up at Billy as the rewinder started to hum, slowly accelerating as if it were counting down to an explosion.

“I uh….haven’t really seen you around much, or – gotten to say hi,” Steve said slowly.

Billy had shrugged, staring right back at Harrington with intense blue eyes and tried to get his heart to stop running away with itself. He felt like he was about to have a heart attack two days from Christmas. “I haven’t been around much, I guess.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, underneath the curl of his shaggy long hair. “Look, I – it’s almost Christmas, and I…I wanted to say something before. I just hadn’t really gotten the chance, but I…look, man. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry, for what happened. It shouldn’t have gone down that way, and – “

Billy cut him off. “You don’t have to. You really, really don’t have to do this. Alright? You don’t gotta – apologize or whatever.” Billy swallowed hard. Was this the only reason Harrington was looking at him? Talking to him? Because he had the guilt, too, weighing on his chest ‘right before Christmas’ and he…it would make him feel better? He could tell himself he felt better, after he’d apologized to Zombie Boy Version 2.0?

Billy’s mouth had immediately dipped down into a jagged line. “You want to hear – what? You want to hear you were justified in it? That it’s okay? That I forgive you? Sure. Yeah, you were justified. It’s okay. I forgive you. You happy? You feel better now, just in time for Christmas? Huh?”

Harrington’s eyes had gone round as chocolate coins, the kind in gold foil for Christmas. The kind that melted on your tongue. “What? No, no this isn’t about me, or how I feel. I mean I do feel shitty about it, but that doesn’t matter. That’s not what I mean. I mean – I just needed you to know that I didn’t really know what was going on, and…you didn’t deserve it. I didn’t do it because I – “

“Because what? Because you hated my ass, pretty boy? Hm?”

Harrington stopped short at that, mouth ajar for a second. The sound of the rewinder accelerated, grew more anxious as it hurtled towards the start of the tape. “I never hated you.”

Billy’d snorted, given a short shake of his head. “You sure as fuck did. And I get it. Alright? Look, we’re good. Okay?”

“No, Billy, I – “ Harrington never called him Billy. Never.

The door chimed like Christmas and swung open with another rush of powdery snow flakes, while Max stomped her snow boots on the way in. Her freckled face was bright red, right to the tip of her nose, and there was frost on her eyelashes. Harrington’s mouth had snapped closed.

“The only one there was Dustin and he’s still being a spazz because I beat my score at Dig Dug again, you can’t even be AROUND him right now, did you find He-Man and She-Ra’s Christmas?” Max asked. “You still wanted it right?”

Billy was going to strangle her.

“He-Man and She-Ra?” Steve asked, his face flickering in a brief smile of amusement as his dark gaze glanced off of Billy and skittered away. Like he knew. “Yeah, sure. Let me grab it, and Dust definitely needs to take a chill pill. It's not exactly life or death over there."

"Not according to him!" Max exclaimed.

Harrington popped It’s a Wonderful Life out of the Rewinder and went to grab He-Man and She-ra: A Christmas Special.

“How much is it?” Billy asked through gritted teeth, feeling heat rise up his neck. Stupid goddamn Maxine, saying it was Billy that wanted to rent it. “It’s for her.”

“But you said – “ Maxine started. Billy shoved her and she shoved him right back. “You’re such an asshole! Oh hey, Steve, did you ask Billy about the tree thing?”

“What tree thing?” Billy asked slowly.

“Oh…” Steve had laughed a little and looked away. “Yeah, no, I didn’t. Um. It’s stupid.”

“What the fuck is the 'tree thing?'” Billy repeated.

“Oh, I – I was just telling Max the other day about the Christmas Tree for my place. It’s too big to get home with the Beamer, and they said it would be too dangerous to try and attach it on top.”

Billy had stared at the two of them with a feeling of dread, even as his sudden flare of defensive fire drained out of him like old, discarded oil to be changed out.

“Well, I only told him that, ya know, we have the truck sitting at home…and it’s sort of yours now, so, maybe – “

“Max had just said maybe you could help me pick it up. I mean, if that’s too much trouble you don’t have to, I just – “

“Why do you even need a tree so big?”

“Because it needs to fill the space.”

And the rest of that conversation had become history, Billy guessed. All he knew was that it had ended up with him saying he would help, because his stupid, stupid mouth couldn’t shut up or keep up with his brain and he just…he’d just wanted to see him again. He’d wanted to talk to him and hopefully not fuck it up again by getting mad at him when he was only trying to apologize, even if it was only to make himself feel better. Billy just…he wanted to talk to him. He’d wanted to talk to him since the first day of school and he’d started asking around about the guy, but the more he asked around, the more nerves coiled tight and sick in his belly and he’d just ended up crushing the guy. Taking over his spot in the school, taking over his old friends, taking over everything he had touched. He’d thought he’d wanted them to be friends, but Billy Hargrove didn’t do ‘friends.’ Not really. He did ‘followers.’ Hanger-ons. Not real friends. But Harrington hadn’t turned into a follower, or a hanger-on, he hadn’t even given Billy the time of day.

But now – now, maybe that could change.

And so he’d agreed. He hadn’t even paused, he’d just said yes and then Harrington had given him his employee discount which meant the movies were free – even if Billy told him they didn’t take handouts. Harrington had only told him ‘It’s Christmas.’ Like that was some kind of an explanation. Maybe he just still felt bad for fucking up Billy’s car and leaving him for dead, possessed or not.

Billy hadn’t really thought of the repercussions or what it actually entailed, him saying ‘yes,’ which was getting behind the wheel of his dad’s giant ass Ford truck parked and rusting behind the old carport attached to the side of the house on Old Cherry. The thought of it made his palms break out in a cold, clammy sweat and his fingertips go numb – the very idea of hearing the engine roar to life again, like his dad back from the grave, too. The Billy from before didn’t fear anything – definitely not his old man, he would have told himself. Never. But now – now, he knew he did. He knew he’d feared a lot of things, for a very long time. And he’d been so full of fear. So, so full of fear. More than any in his life, as it was taken over by the Shadow.

He didn’t want to be afraid. Not anymore.

“So are you going to take it?” Susan asked. She was pressing silver, glimmering cookie cutters into the flattened dough. “You should probably go before it gets dark, there might be ice out after dark. I don’t want you to get into another accident.”

Billy could still feel the impact of that unknown, unrecognizable canary yellow car slamming into the side of the Camaro – the jolt, the slam, the blaze of the flame as the engine caught fire.

Harrington had apologized to him.

Didn’t he understand he didn’t need to apologize? That Billy had wanted it? Had wanted it all to end? How could he not understand that he only needed to apologize for not finishing it all sooner, destroying the demon inside of him?

How could he have understood that even if he had died, the Shadow wouldn’t have ended with him?

“I think you should. You should go help him, I think he’d really like to see you.” Max said from where she was still decorating cookies. Billy drummed his fingers on the table, each one a drumbeat of irritation, and glanced up at the clock above the kitchen sink with the stupid hen on it, and each number was an egg.

Harrington was expecting him any minute, and he lived all the way across town in ritzy as fuck Loch Nora. That, plus the snow, it would take him maybe twenty minutes to get there. Well – if he was still had Lenore, his Camaro, it would have. In the heavy as fuck truck with four wheel drive, it might be ten.

And Steve Harrington was waiting for him.

“Fine,” Billy said. “I’ll take the truck.”

***

Billy had never been in the driver’s side of the old Ford Ranger pickup. It made him feel weird as fuck – like his hackles were up but at the same time like he was going to throw up. The bucket seat was worn old brown, tan, and ivory striped fabric. It still smelled of old, stale cigarette smoke and whiskey, and there were a few crushed beer cans still sitting down in the footwell of the passenger side. Dog tags hung from the rearview mirror with Neil’s name and numbers on them, dull and tarnished in the off-light of a snowy day. The vinyl of the steering wheel squeaked dully under his hands as he turned the key in the ignition, and it took a second for it to catch and for the engine to finally turn over. It finally roared to life, and his dad right back with it. The back of his neck prickled painfully and Billy couldn’t breathe. But it was fine. He was fine. His dad was dead. He’d been the one to put him in the grave. Billy tried to slow down his panicked heart - slow. Slow. Slow down. It's fine. Count backwards from ten. Ten...nine...eight...

He backed up the old pickup, the brakes giving a ragged squeak – he’d have to replace the pads on it, or would if he ever wanted to touch the thing again. It could probably use a full tune up, he just didn’t care enough to do it. Billy shoved his choppy, sandy curls back off of his forehead as he spun the huge steering wheel one handed to back it out of the drive and pull forward onto Old Cherry. A light snow dusted across the windshield and he used the wipers, scowling out of the window and started towards Harrington’s. The sound of the engine and the vibration of it in his bones made him sick. It made him feel like a kid again, tucked into the passenger side without a seat belt as his dad drank behind the wheel, blaring the radio news station and cursing at the fucker ahead of him at a green light that didn’t move his ass fast enough.

By the time he got to Loch Nora, he was shaking finely all over. The classic Ford Ranger chugged into the long drive way and Harrington’s pretty head popped out of one of the twin double, burgundy red doors to his goddamn mansion. He shoved a ski hat that said ‘ASPEN’ down over his full locks and locked up behind himself before he started through the snow in his giant snow boots and a forest green and orange striped puffer jacket, smiling up at Billy through the window.

The window was cracked ,even in the middle of a light December snow storm right before Christmas, and Billy’s fingers shook slightly as he lifted his Marlboro to tap it against the glass to shed ash out of it.

“We good to go?” He asked, voice tight and short and kind of hoarse. He wasn’t supposed to be smoking after they’d had to do lung surgery back at the lab when they brought him back like Frankenstein’s Monster. He wasn’t supposed to do a lot of things that he still did, though.

“Totally good,” Harrington smiled through the glass, before it faltered a bit and his dark eyes grew worried at the edges. “Hey are you okay?”

”Fan-fucking-tastic. Let’s get this over with.”

Harrington clamored into the passenger side of the Ford pickup, searching for a seat belt only to find – nothing where one should be.

“No seat-belts in this rig,” Billy shook his head as he put his arm over the bucket seat to look over his shoulder and start backing the Ford up.

“Damn, it’s pretty old huh?”

“Yep. 1968. Old man’s pride and joy.”

“Hey, are you sure you’re alright? We don’t really have to do this, if you don’t want to.”

“Didn’t you say the guy who used to deliver bit the big one?”

“Well yeah, I mean…he was part of – you know.”

Billy had figured as much. “Figured as much. Least I can do is help you pick up the tree, if its that important. Killed half the town, didn’t I?”

“No way. No, you absolutely didn’t.” Steve said immediately, watching him with big, dark eyes as Billy focused on the road and the drifts of snow across the asphalt. Hawkins didn’t really do snow plows apparently, at least not really – Billy thought they had one but it mostly only hit the main roads, and even that took ages by the time they got around to it. “It was the – the mind flayer that did that, alright? Not you. You shouldn’t think it was you. It wasn’t.”

Billy’s hand twisted around the wheel – still clammy with cold sweat. It smelled like his dad in here, dog tags swinging just outside of his vision.

“Whatever.”

“I’m serious. It just used you, like it used Will. Like it tried to use everyone else. That wasn’t your fault. You wouldn’t kill anyone.”

Billy startled slightly at that even as he kept his poker face firmly in place, an emotionless mask besides the twitch of his mouth in something like bitter amusement. “Yeah? And how would you know that?”

“I just do.”

“Well thanks. That’s real reassuring, Harrington. As long as _you_ know.”

“You know it, too. You’re a good person.”

“Is that what you were thinkin’ last year?” Billy asked with a tight, disbelieving laugh .

Steve laughed a little too, even if it sounded sort of nervous. “Well, last year I was thinking you were an asshole. But no, I didn’t think you were some serial killer or something. There’s a big difference between being an asshole and being a killer. And you’re not a killer. “

Billy felt something shift imperceptibly within his chest. Maybe it felt like a…a relief of some kind. A relief that Steve didn’t think he was a killer. He didn’t think Max thought that, either. He hadn’t really talked much to anybody else, though. He just hadn’t wanted to, spent most of the time in his room. But Harrington saying that, that he knew Billy wouldn’t, it’…it helped. Because Billy was still trying to convince himself it hadn’t been him. That it had been the creature, the shadow, the darkness in his mind that was foreign – not native. That he hadn’t just lost it and murdered everybody and then had some kind of mental breakdown and convinced himself it was some alien creature from an alternate dimension.

It helped hearing someone else say it besides Max. Someone like Steve Harrington.

“Look, Billy – thank you. For helping me today. I don’t know anybody else with a truck besides Hopper, kind of – but he’s gone, too.”

Billy fiddled with the heating vents and took a drag of his Marlboro Red, the cherry burning hot and bright at the tip before he breathed the nicotine smoke out through his nostrils like a bull, or a dragon. The rush of it through his veins and lungs seemed to ease some of the tension of sitting in the overly familiar cab of the truck.

“Can I bum one?” Harrington asked, and Billy glanced at him half in surprise. He forgot Harrington smoked half the time. He passed him the pack with his free hand out of his jacket pocket. Harrington lit up with the flash of a silver zippo from his own pocket, cheeks hollowing around it as he got the flame going, pretty pink lips wrapping around the filter. Billy jerked his gaze back to the road before he killed them both.

“Thanks,” Billy said softly. It felt abnormal on his tongue. “For not thinking I’m a killer. And this, it – it’s not a big deal, alright? My old man’s truck has just been sitting around. I don’t have any other wheels now, Lenore’s busted and rusting out at the junk yard.”

Steve nodded slowly. “I saw her there the last time we were out there. I forgot you called her Lenore.” He smiled slightly, almost reminiscent as he tipped his head towards the passenger window, drawing a lungful of smoke in and breathing it out at his reflection. It faded quickly, though, that smile. “I really am sorry. I should have come back for you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have .Because then I would have killed you, too. I would have killed all of you.”

“Not you. The mind flayer.”

“Whatever you want to call it. I don’t know where you guys even got that from.”

“I dunno, it’s some thing from the kids dragons game they used to play all the time. That and the demogorgon.”

“And you, what, you called that – that monster? The one with no face, or like…it had flower petals or some shit?”

“Yeah, it’s – it’s really hard to explain when you haven’t seen it? But that's basically it. Flower petals with _teeth_.”

Billy…sort of had. He remembered it in bits and flashes from memories that hadn’t been his own, as if they belonged to someone else. But he hadn’t known what they were at the time he’d seen them, when they were fresh and clear and he was ‘flayed,’ compared to now. Now it was fuzzy and surreal and distant in his mind, he couldn’t focus on the image correctly. It was like trying to remember something from a dream after a day had passed.

“Hawkins is seriously fucked,” Billy offered.

“It really, really is,” Harrington agreed.

They rumbled along over the thick, snow packed road in an almost companionable silence for a few minutes.

“Hey, should I put on some Christmas music?” Harrington asked after a bit as Billy head towards the Christmas Farm stand off of Main Street, where Harrington had told him at the store was where they had to go. “There’s a good Christmas Station on 99.5”

Billy grunted noncommittally. He was really sick of Christmas music, but if Harrington wanted to? Fine. Billy didn’t want to touch the radio, though. He wanted to touch as little as he could in the truck, and get back as soon as possible.

The second the radio came on it was on a radio news Station. Harrington made a face and spun the dial from it until he could tune in on 99.5 and Judy Garland was singing ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.  
“Hey, wasn’t this the lady that was on The Wizard of Oz?” Harrington asked.

“Yeah, my ma really liked her. Judy Garland. This was from Meet me in St. Louis. She liked it around Christmas. She had a Christmas special from the sixties that used to play back when I was a kid – she sang it on there, too. My mom always watched it.”

The snow blanketed the world of Hawkins around them, and not a single soul was out on the road as the Ford Ranger plowed through it all like it was nothin’. It was easier to focus with Harrington talking to him and Judy Garland on the radio, with the same sort of comfort his mother had once provided. For a second it was like he wasn’t sitting where his father once sat, gripping the same steering wheel the man once held.

When they got to the tree farm stand, Steve hopped out into the snow in his goofy snow boots and Billy killed the engine to climb out in his leather bike boots. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his winter jacket and circled around to Harrington, leaving deep footprints in the snow banks.

“Where is your mom?” Harrington asked, frowning. “I’ve never met her – is she still in California, or did she…?” _Die?_ The unspoken word hung on the air.

Billy shook his head as they started into the fenced off area full of lined up pine trees, one after another. They were all sleepy and crowned with a dusting of snow, and a few other people were perusing through them and some of the workers were wrapping the trees up to be bundled onto car tops.

“I don’t know,” Billy said after a minute of their feet crunching in the snow, looking up at the Christmas lights that were strung up and criss crossed over the entire tree lot. “She didn’t die. Maybe California, maybe somewhere else. I don’t talk to her.” He huffed a deep breath and flicked away his cigarette butt into the snow where it sizzled and disappeared. Harrington mirrored him. Their breath fogged in front of their faces like smoke anyways.

“You mean she – “ Harrington started, and Billy finished for him – “Yeah. She fucked off a while back. Think I was nine, almost ten.”

“Holy shit,” Steve murmured in a low voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know – “

Billy never would have breathed a word of it before. He wouldn’t have told a soul, and Max’s ass would have been grass if she said a thing, and she knew that. Nobody knew but them and his family – if that’s what they could be called to him.

“I didn’t say anything about it. How would you?”

“I know but – “

“Hi there! Merry Christmas! I’m Samantha, welcome to the Hawkins Tree Farm! What can I get you, boys? Looking for a miniature tree for an apartment, or dorm? We have them as small as two feet,” a cheerful, older woman asked as she started towards them in a santa hat and huge glasses with a bright smile.

“Oh, thanks. Merry Christmas. But no, actually, my name is Steve Harrington? I called in earlier about the tree that was on hold under ‘Harrington,” Harrington replied.

“Well I was wondering when we might see that shining face! Earl told me that you would be in shortly, but that was a while ago! He mentioned you were having trouble hauling it home. It certainly is a big tree, isn’t it? How special. It looks like your parents already sent in a check? My my, it said it was mailed all the way from _Fiji_! How international! You must be so lucky to travel with your folks,” Samantha blathered on. Billy sort of hated her.

Harrington had a peculiar look on his face that Billy couldn’t put his finger on – he was smiling but it wasn’t a happy smile. “Yeah, it’s great,” he said. “That’s the right one.”

Billy knew he wasn’t traveling with his family – he was stuck here in Nowheresville, Indiana, just like Billy. He wasn’t in Fiji for Christmas.

“What must that be like? Where have you all been to? How long were you in Fiji? You don’t look very tan. Is it really sunny this time of – ?”

“Y’know,” Billy interrupted, turning up the dial on his charm factor, lowering his lashes and smiling at her, drawing her attention away from Harrington. His voice lowered to a purr as he tipped his head – would have been better if he was in his leather bomber jacket. “We’re in a real rush here, Sammie.” Samantha blushed and tittered at him calling her ‘Sammie.’ “Could you be a real doll and help us grab that tree real quick? We’ve really gotta get going, you know, Christmas and all.” He flashed her a canine in a smile and winked at her.

“Oh – oh _my_ , well yes, yes of course. You boys just wait here.”

“We can load it up in the back of the truck. Just point is in the right direction,” Billy said. He was very aware how Harrington was staring at him like he’d grown another head, but old ladies were too fun. Earl was probably her husband.

Samantha actually put a hand to her bosom and heaved a breathe and laughed airily before she lead them over to the biggest fucking Christmas tree Billy had ever seen in his goddamn life. Jesus _Christ_.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Billy told Harrington the minute Samantha was drawn away by some other customers. “No fucking wonder you couldn’t get this on top of your car. What the actual fuck, Harrington.”

“That’s the size my mom wanted, I don’t know!” Harrington shrugged, pulling mittens from his pocket to slide over his hands. They were the solid kind without individual fingers like little kids wore to go sledding. Billy didn’t even know they made those in adult sizes. “But hey, could you be a real _doll_ and help me grab it real quick?” Harrington laughed.

Billy shoved him in the shoulder and Harrington shoved him right back and he hit a tree, which dumped snow all over him. Billy gasped in indignation and shoved a handful of powder at Harrington, who gaped at him, snow clinging to his cheeks and eyelashes as he kicked more snow at Billy. He slipped and hit his ass in the snow and Billy threw his head back and laughed. Jesus it felt good to actually _laugh._ “I told you to plant your feet, Harrigton! Never listen,” Billy swiped at him with more snow at him, then reached out to offer his hand. Harrington stared at it almost mistrustfully for a second, then slowly accepted it. Billy didn’t let him drop this time. He hauled him to his feet.

“Thanks for the advice.”

The two boys headed for the tree, and Billy rubbed at his chest through the jacket, giving the giant tree a once over. A year ago he wouldn’t have been daunted by it, but he’d lost a lot of muscle mass since then, and his half healed scars were still pink, and gave him a lot of shit if he pushed himself too far. But then Harrington came up along his other side, and they both grabbed it from either side.

Pine boughs and branches were suddenly in his face and together they helped walk it to the gate towards the Ford – it weighed an absolute shit ton.

“Jesus Fucking Christ Harrington,” Billy spit into the snow and pine needles, the fresh, crisp smell of it flooding his nose. “This better fit through your front door or I’m kicking your ass.”

“Again?”

“Shuddup, man.”

They loaded the tree into the pickup bed, and stood leaning against the side of the truck, both of them breathing hard with snow on their shoulders. “I hope you’re tipping me for the extra labor.”

“I have hot cocoa at home, is that good?” Harrington offered breathlessly.

“I’ll take it.”

***

On the way back to Loch Nora, the Christmas music was back on the radio station. The old heater was on full blast, and their skin was damp from melted snow. Billy couldn’t see out the rearview at all, the tree took up that much space. He’d locked it down into the truck bed with his dad’s old hauler cinch straps so it wouldn’t go flying out the back, and it didn’t budge.

“Thanks again for helping. I mean it, it really means a lot of whatever,” Harrington told him as they barreled along the snow drifted lane. Snow dense lodge pines towered above them on either side of the road, and the snow as otherwise untouched until his old man’s Ford Ranger left tire tracks in it’s wake. “I didn’t know who else to ask. Robin’s dad has a truck, but she’s out of town.”

“Robin – that the chick you work with?”

“Yeah, Robs. I worked with her at Scoops too.”

“So you two fucking or what?” Billy asked like he already knew the answer. It was something he’d figured already, even if he got really strong gay vibes from her. It was a lot harder for him to tell with bitches compared to…men. With men, he could tell. Usually.

Harrington glanced at him in a startled deer in headlights kind of way. “What?” he asked, and his voice was too high. Yeah, they were definitely fucking. Billy knew it. “No. No way. I mean – no. She’s just my friend. We aren’t like that.”

“You’re seriously telling me with a straight face you aren’t tapping that?” Billy asked snidely.

“I’m seriously telling you with a straight face I’m not tapping that. I wouldn’t. I mean, I did like her. I kind of tried dating her? But she turned me down flat. She – well. I’m just not her type.”

“I don’t think there’s a Hawkins bitch in town that wouldn’t want to jump on that dick, Harrington. You used to be the king, remember?”

“What, until you came along?”

“Damn straight.”

Harrington laughed and it was so bright that it made Billy’s bones feel like they were going to spin apart. Harrington had never laughed like that around him at school – he’d always ignored him, and Billy guessed he didn’t blame him. He’d maybe come on a little strong, but…he didn’t know. He’d been…nervous. He could admit that to himself now. He’d wanted Harrington to like him. See how cool he was, how good he was. At ball, at making friends, at ruling the school. At everything. He’d been prom king of Hawkins High and it still somehow hadn’t been enough. Harrington still hadn’t looked at him.

But he was looking at him now. Billy didn’t want him to look away.

“I’m pretty sure no girls want to ‘jump on my dick,’ actually. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve been bombing for like…forever.”

Billy would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed. He had. It had been a relief that he didn’t move on to the next Nancy Wheeler right away.

“Robs won’t really let me live it down. I keep striking out, even when I try. She kept saying that ah, like, that I was ‘self-sabatoging’ whatever that means. After Nance and everything. It was totally stupid…”

“Can’t say I haven’t heard a lot of rumours going around about why that Wheeler bitch screwed off on you to go fuck that Byers creep,” Billy said slowly. “Can’t say that helped your case.”

“Mm,” Harrington murmured, drawing an absent doodle in the fogged up space on the glass of his window. “That would make sense,” he added, sounding sad. “But plenty of bitches in the sea – right?”

Billy had meant himself in a lot of ways when he’d said that.

“Yep. Plenty.”

The tires skidded out from under the truck just for a second before he was able to right it again, fingers tightening on the wheel. The snow was getting heavier, and he switched the gear up higher on the windshield wipers – they swept away the snow like powdered sugar in heaps.

They were deep enough down Mirkwood that they lost reception for a while. The radio stations always went out close to the old power station out there. The radio was just a hush of static, and Harrington turned it down low.

“Look, so,” Harrington started like he was steeling himself for something painful, like a shot at the doctor’s office. Something expected to hurt him. “Robin, um. Robs told me I should…talk to you about something. When we were back at Family Video, you told me – you told me you thought I hated you. I don’t. I didn’t.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“I mean, I thought you hated _me_.”

“I didn’t – hate you,” Billy gritted through his teeth. “I just – “ he couldn’t explain it. He couldn’t.

Harrington took a deep, slow breath. Steeling himself again. “Robin said she thought you were…kind of like when little kids are on the playground, and pull a girl’s pigtails? Teasing them? Like when they…when they like them. Like that.”

Billy froze. All of his muscles individually locked up and his grip on the steering wheel turned into a death grip. The vinyl creaked painfully under his aching fingers. His eyes stayed zeroed ahead on the road, but there was a buzzing in his ears. His mouth snapped open to – to deny it, to question her fucking sanity, to –

“And I thought that…that it might make some sense,” Harrington said, even more slowly than before. Billy could feel him watching the side of Billy’s face. “And if that’s wrong, if that’s – wrong, I’m sorry I said anything. But she thought…” Harrington’s voice grew even softer. Billy almost couldn’t hear him over the sound of the wipers, and the hush of the snow beneath the tires. “She thought I should talk to you about it. Because I…” Harrington cleared his throat. “Because I didn’t _hate_ you.”

What did that mean? What the fuck did that mean? Billy’s jaw was locked together so hard it hurt, molars grinding together.

“Then – what?” He managed to get out through grit, anxious teeth. \

“When I was working at Scoops, there was this…this guy. This guy that worked at the Step Aerobics place, and he was blonde, and – pretty, I don’t know - Fit? And I…I realized when I was watching him that he kind of reminded me of…of you. And when you and me, I mean. When we were in the showers? Or like, playing ball? And you were guarding me? I…when I saw you at Halloween.” Steve swallowed shallowly, and Billy could actually _hear_ it, it was so loud. “I’ve always dated women. I loved Nance. But I….when you started at school, that…I wasn’t sure…” and then he was floundering. But Billy understood. He understood why, and what Harrington was saying. Or what he couldn’t say, because he couldn’t say it either. “He reminded me of you. And Robs said sometimes people can…” Steve wrapped his arms around himself in this sort of half hug. He wasn’t looking at Billy, he was staring out he windshield too – just like Billy was. “Can like both, sometimes.”

Billy was pretty sure his brain had just…imploded or something. He was surprised it wasn’t running out of his ears. Here lies Billy Hargroves’ brain.

“And you’re saying you…like me?” Billy asked, the words as careful and steady as molasses, even if it didn’t match the maddening race his innards were having – heart racing, guts twisting. Unable to breathe properly.

“…would that be a bad thing?”

Billy’s throat clicked as he swallowed. Dots swam in his vision against the white wonderland of the road. “No,” was all he could manage.

They were in Loch Nora. When had that happened? They were in front of Steve’s house. How? But Billy pulled into the long drive, the old Ford Ranger rocking slightly as it drove ruts into the fresh layer of powder from when Billy had been there earlier.

Steve Harrington. A boy. Had just confessed to him in – the cab of his old man’s beloved, rustbucket Ford Ranger. He could actually feel his pops turning over in his grave, screaming something about ‘GODDAMN FAGS’ from way over in the VA Cemetery in Cali where he’d been buried.

“Say something?” Harrington asked after a second as the engine continued to run, the stick shift thrown into park, the heater still powered on, and the radio was back to playing Christmas music on low now that they’d gotten away from that old Hawkins Power place.

“Me too,” Billy said hoarsely, helplessly, his throat muscles were so tight – the words actually hurt to say. “I liked you too. Since the…the very start. I just didn’t know how to – what to – “ Billy screwed his eyes shut, clinging hard onto the huge vinyl steering wheel, his scarred knuckles bleached white. His scars fucking hurt. He leaned forward slightly towards the steering wheel – he almost felt sick with the words, cursed in the cab of his dad’s old truck.

“Hey – hey – “ Steve murmured, leaning forward across the big fabric beige, brown, and ivory striped bucket seat.

He scooted closer to Billy across the middle, reaching out to him. He lay a hand against the rigid shoulder of his jacket, slow and careful. Billy finally got his eyes open, gulping for air, and he was dizzy with this overwhelming combination of disbelief and the burn of guilt – guilt for the reason why they’d had to leave Califonria, why his dad had moved the whole family away when he’d found him in the back room with a boy. They’d never done more than kiss, and some very heavy petting, hadn’t had the chance to get any farther than that. His dad wasn’t supposed to have been home – nobody was, and Billy hadn’t known where else to go. To inexperienced to know. But Harrington was right here. He was right here with those big soft doe eyes, his lips slightly parted with worry, head cocked to the side with concern as he scooted closer. Billy leaned into the touch at his shoulder, swallowing desperately – bright blue eyes hungrily searching Harrington’s for an answer to a question he didn’t know.

It happened as suddenly and easy as breathing as Billy leaned toward Harrington, and Harrington was leaning towards him, and their lips just…met. They just met. And it felt like it had been months, years now, coming around to it. It felt like it had been waiting since Billy stood in front of Harrington at that Halloween party, staring him down, and Harrington had removed those stupid shades to meet him eye for eye. Not back down an inch – he’d never backed down from Billy. Never been afraid of him, never…never hated him, either.

Liked him. He’d liked Billy. His mouth was as soft as Billy had always imagined, with those soft, pink plush lips pressing against his own. Billy sighed through his nose as Harrington leaned even farther into his space, until their thighs were pressed together in the close space of the truck cab. Billy felt his lips start to part of their own accord, like an invitation, and Harrington’s lips responded to the unspoken request. His mouth moved against Billy’s, the tip of his tongue slipping tentatively against Billy’s lower lip, and his mouth parted further.

Please. Please. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, _Please._

Their tongues connected and it was like an electricity flooded his body from that one point of contact, where it was slick and wet against his own. They tangled together, and Billy moaned softly into the kiss, reaching between them to grab onto the front of Harrington’s stupid puffer jacket to pull him closer – fingers knotting up in the slippery fabric with a sigh of sound. Harrington pulled off his dumb mittens and wrapped an arm around Billy’s shoulders, those long, strong fingers braced at the back of Billy’s neck, playing with the baby curls there while the other hand cupped Billy’s left cheek – thumb stroking against his cheekbone as he deepened the kiss even further. Billy’s back hit the door panel of the Ford, the back of his head gently thumping against the frosty glass. The windows were already fogging up as they panted against each other’s mouths, grasping at each other. And Harrington’s hands – Jesus, they were so big, but so gentle, and soft. Like he hadn’t worked a day of hard labor in his life – not callused and scarred like Billy’s. Harrington’s thigh bumped against his again, their knees knocking in the close space at the edge of the seat, hitting the gear shift.

Harrington’s tongue was – mesmorizing, hot and so alive in his mouth, licking across his teeth, wet and inviting. It made Billy shiver all over, and all of the rumors about Steve Harrington being an amazing kisser – they were all _real._

The fingers at the back of his head soothed against the bump of the chain of his Saint Cristopher medallion necklace where it looped around the back of his neck, trailing over each tiny bump of his vertebrae, dipping beneath the collar of his jacket into the warm heat below. Intimate. Billy rose up against him, holding onto the other boy hard in the seat now, losing himself completely in the kiss that he had been waiting for what felt all of his life. A kiss he never, never thought he would get. Not from Steve Harrington, not from the King, not from the boy who he’d had eyes for since they rolled into this shithole. All he needed was – he could feel, he was getting – fucking – _hard_ -

There came a sudden clang of a crumpled beer can down by the footwell. One of Harrington’s winter boots must have caught at it, skittering it into another one. It was like a clash of sound in the otherwise mostly quiet cab, well above the sound of the volume on low. Billy startled hard, blinking wildly as he half pulled away from the kiss – the glint of the dog tags from the mirror catching the dull, dead light reflected off the snow, and it was suddenly too hot and too stifling in the cab, and he could smell the whiskey again – and –

“No,” Billy gasped ,shaking his head. Choking on the word, and he was going to vomit, he was sure of it. Vomit on the smell of the cab, which smelled like his dad – _faggot, faggot, you gonna be a fucking little girl, huh? Be a little pansy, pussy, what the fuck are you thinking? Kissing boys, disgusting, wrong, fucked in the head – wrong in the head, wrong in the head, wrong in the head -_

“No?” Steve asked, voice half broken – sounding half under water. The world reeled.

“No – not – not no, I just – I’ve gotta get out of here. I can’t - not here. Not here, fuck, not here,” Billy shook his head, tasting bile, sharp and bitter in the back of his throat.

“Oh – okay, okay. No, that’s okay we can go inside,” Harrington said. He sounded confused, but more than willing to move, willing to appease him. For Billy to be happy, to be okay. “Woah, are you okay? You look really – pale – “

Billy shook his head. Not okay. “No – just – inside. Let’s go inside. Not here.”

Billy nearly fell out of the driver’s side door once he got the handle working, and Harrington was stumbling out after him, pulling the keys out with him. It felt better when he couldn’t hear the deep rumble of the engine anymore, like some kind of pavlonian bullshit.

“The tree – “ Billy started.

“No, it’s okay. We can get the tree later, okay?” Steve said, reaching out to take Billys’ shoulder gently and start guiding him to the house. He got the front doors unlocked and ushered Billy inside, showing him where he could put his boots, his jacket. Billy shed everything until he was down to his old black Def Leppard concert tee, blue jeans, and the navy blue wool socks from Susan last Christmas.

“What happened?” Steve asked once Billy was sitting on the couch. He’d never been in Harrington’s place before, and it was classy – posh and plush and decorated in that what he thought was called ‘Chinese Modern’ style. It mostly felt cold and impersonal – nothing like Steve Harrington. “Was it because – because we - ? “

Billy was already shaking his head, shaking...all over. “No – no, not that. It was the fucking…truck,” he murmured in a low, miserable voice, his brows knit tightly together. He didn’t even know where or how to explain. “It was my dad’s. It’s not mine, it was my dad’s, and he…my dad, he…” He leaned forward over his knees, elbows braced on them, and he was so sure he as going to throw up again. But Billy could still taste him on his tongue. Harrington was at his side again, rubbing circles on his back like his mom used to do when he’d been a kid and upset or scared after a nightmare, or after his dad had popped him one too many – her too. Billy felt like he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t fucking breathe, the air too far away and he kept trying to choke some of it down, but his lungs felt too tight – especially after the surgeries, hyperventilating was _worse._ And in front of Harrington, when they’d just been kissing, it was fucking… _embarrassing_. But….

“He always said I was wrong in the head. Fucked in the head, that I had…too many wires crossed, and that’s why I…” Billy paused. “I just couldn’t. Not in there.”

“Okay. It’s okay,” Steve said in that soft voice, and Billy thought he understood what Billy was trying to say. He waited with him for a long time, it felt like. Just waiting quietly. Rubbing those little circles on his back through the cotton fabric of his tee. Billy hadn’t really realized how much he’d been freaking the fuck out until it started to fade. Until he finally started to be able to breathe, to suck in air and it stayed in his lungs. When his hands weren’t numb anymore, and spots weren’t floating in his vision, and he didn’t have that vomit feel in the back of his throat.

“Hey you wait here, okay? I’ll make you that hot cocoa I promised you. Just wait here,” Steve said after a while. “You’re cold. Hang on, I’ll turn up the heat too.”

Billy guessed he _was_ cold. He always got so cold now, ever since – ever since everything. He hated the goddamn cold. He could hear the furnace kicking on somewhere, and Harrington was gone. But then he was back as if no time had passed, wielding two forest green mugs of hot cocoa with those little baby marshmallows that him and Max liked to use at home.

Billy accepted the mug, holding it between both hands as it steamed. The warmth of the ceramic seemed into his palms, his fingers, and the sweet smell of it brought him back to himself even further. He couldn’t smell the inside of the pickup anymore.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to – “ Harrington started.

Billy shook his head. “No. It’s not your fault, I just…my old man. He was a real fucking hard ass. Beat the everloving shit outta me, y’know? I just…got caught once, with a guy back home in Cali. Got my wrist broke for it, and three cracked ribs, when he caught us. It’s why he carted us off to Backwater Woods, Indiana. Figured there’d be less gays out here by the bible belt, I figure.”

“Fuck,” Harrington whispered fervently. “Your dad sounds like – “

“Yeah I – I don’t really wanna talk about my old man. I just…you know, so you know. I just don’t want to talk about him. He’s dead. It’s over.”

“Well yeah but if you still – “

“Harrington, please. Stop.”

Harrington did. He was quiet for a long time, staring pensively down into his mug like it held some sort of answer into the universe as Billy sipped slowly at his own, with only the sounds of the house settling around them and the muffled sound that snow always brought with it from outside.

“Steve,” he finally said after a while.

“What?” Billy asked.

“Steve. You can call me Steve?”

Billy’s mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile at one corner, and he gave a small nod, sipping from his mug again. “Yeah. Yeah, alright, Steve it is.” He studied Harrington – Steve- out of the corner of his eye.

He figured a lot of guys would have been freaked the fuck out by Billy’s whole freak out out there – if it had even happened in the first place. Billy had believed Neil’s thought process, that there wouldn’t be anybody out here that wasn’t as straight as a beanpole. But clearly that wasn’t really the case, was it? He also thought about that girl, Robin – who Steve said he was best friends with, wasn’t screwing around with, and who he wasn’t her type. The one who had apparently told him that such a thing as being ‘bi’ might exist, and discussed the possibility of liking Billy – and had noticed Billy’s entirely unsubtle ‘pigtail pulling,’ as she put it. But hadn’t said a thing, except for to Steve, he assumed. He thought about the gay vibes he’d gotten from her before and dismissed – because it was Hawkins, Indiana. But maybe that didn’t mean a whole lot. Maybe it didn’t matter where you were, or who you were with. Bible belt or not.

It was a lot to think about. Later.

Because he couldn’t believe Steve had kissed him. Actually kissed him. And he’d had a panic attack like a fucking loser and missed his chance.

“Can I kiss you again?” Billy asked, catching himself by surprise.

Steve looked up from his half empty mug in surprise with a faint smile of pleasant surprise, biting at his plush lower lip. He gave a little nod.

“Yeah – I’d like that. But only if you’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good. I’m totally good.”

Steve set his mug down on the elegant glass coffee table and Billy did too, before they were both meeting in the middle of the couch. It wasn’t as spontaneous this time, it felt more planned, and somehow Billy felt more nerves fluttering violently in his stomach than before because he knew it was coming. But it was just as warm and sweet as before – literally, he could taste the chocolate on Harrington’s – Steve’s – tongue, and the gooey sugar of the marshmallows. Their tongues were together instantly as the heater flooded the space with heat, along with hot chocolate in their bellies, warmth blossoming like al live thing between them. Drawn together like magnetism. The kiss went deeper, faster, as if it wanted to pick right back up where it had left off in the truck.

Steve breathed hard against Billy’s mouth as they swapped spit, necking on the couch in the Harrington living room in this big, empty house that he had all to himself on Christmas Eve.

The kiss seemed to last forever, ramping the heat up, before Steve was moving. He kissed the corner of Billy’s mouth in a light peck before he began to plant soft, open mouth kisses along Billy’s cheek, down to the line of his jaw – marching kisses all the way up the sensitive place just below Billy’s ear, nosing at the dangle of his earring there. Steve licked at his throat, and Billys gasped shallowly, reaching up to tangle his fingers into that famous, wild brown hair he’d always wanted to get his hands on. He raked his fingers through it, dragging the blunt of his nails over Steve’s scalp and got a low moan for his efforts. Steve bit gently at the line of Billy’s throat, nibbling at his pulsepoint, and his cock – full filled out in his jeans – gave an eager kick.

“Fuck,” Billy breathed into the quiet space of the living room. He was leaning back and Steve was leaning down with him until his back was against the sofa cushions, and his hands were wrapped up in Steve’s hair, while Steve’s hands dipped down load to dip under the hem of his t-shirt. It had ridden up against his stomach, and Steve’s strong hands played against the flat of his stomach, the golden hair of his treasure trail leading down from his navel. They seemed hungry to explore the skin of Billy’s stomach, and he let them, before they went higher. Cool hands quickly heated up against Billy’s skin -, making him groan, golden head tossed back against the cushions. Steve licked against the exposed Adam’s apple as Billy did it, before he nosed against the hollow of his throat where his pulse beat as rapidly as a hummingbird’s. But the higher then went, the faster Billy's hands moved to stop their progress. Too aware of the gnarled, bright flesh of tender scars there. Didn't want him touching them - to see. He wasn't what he used to be.

_“Harrington – please – “_

_“Steve – “_

_“Steve –_ , Steve _please –_ “ Billy pleaded, although he didn’t know what for.

“Billy – _jesus_ – “ Steve gasped against his throat before moving back up to kiss him hard. Billy pressed his hips up, angling them towards him as Steve lay above him. He pressed the outline of his cock against Steve’s thigh, and the bump of his hip bone. Desperate for some kind of friction. But the most satisfying part about it wasn’t that, it was the fact that Steve pressed right back against him, and he could feel the long, hard ridge of his dick. He was just as hard as Billy was. They rutted together for a moment, electricity under Billy's skin, lighting his bones like fire, hip bones bumping, their mouths meeting and again, all spit and tongues, shared air, and the taste of cocoa, with Billy grabbing at Steve’s luscious hair, his strong neck, his broad shoulders, searching again and again for purchase.

“God I liked you so much, I liked you so much – “ Steve mumbled against Billy’s lips in between kisses that grew more hungry with each pass of their mouths, those huge hands exploring Billy's torso above his shirt, the lines of his rib cage through fabric - careful and sensitive of the extensive scarring that was burned into his flesh in ragged starbursts beneath.

“Wanted you – wanted you so bad – “ Billy groaned back up at him. “Fuck, want you _now.”_

“Me too – _jesus_ , me too – “ Steve shivered at a particularly good pass as their cocks slid together through the rough strain of their jeans, both with dark spots forming on the dense fabric. "But Billy, I - " 

Billy reached between them to start undoing his own belt, with the hurried, rushed clink of the belt buckle coming undone the only sound besides their labored breathing. The zip of a copper fly, and then-

Harrington, Steve, faltered then, seeming – unsure for the first time. Billy got it – he knew why. He’d said it himself – he’d only been with girls before. And there was one key difference between Billy’s legs than from any bitch in Hawkins.

But Billy still knew what to do. He moved to fumble for Steve's jeans, got the belt half undone, but a large hand stilled him.

"Hang on - Billy, hang on - you...you're still shaking. You're shaking," Steve mumbled against Billy's mouth, panting. “Maybe we should wait?” he added “I mean we don’t have to right now.” 

Billy couldn’t believe it – Harrington, prude? Impossible. Everything he’d ever heard about the guy didn’t suggest it could be possible. He wasn’t some simpering girl that had to wait, and he wasn’t – he wasn’t shaking. He wasn't. Was he?

Although…yeah...maybe he’d never really stopped. His dad’s words haunting him from the grave, even with Harrington in reach. Kissing him. As impossible as that could be. 

Steve pulled back from him, shoving the hair back out of his face, and gazing down at him with large dark eyes in the brightness of the massive living room. He gently pecked at Billy’s lips, even though they were both still breathing hard, and he could feel the strong ridge of Harrington’s dick against his thigh. He could hear the clink of his belt buckle, too. 

“We could get the tree set up?” 

Billy groaned up at him, and not in a _good_ way this time. 

“Why don’t we get the tree set up? Huh?” Steve asked, getting up onto his knees and trying to redo his jeans. He was so…beautiful. Billy hadn’t known a guy could look as perfect as Steve Harrington did. He was flustered and red in the cheeks, with a delicious color that stole down his throat and past his collar. His hair was a mess and Billy just wanted to get his hands in it, and – it felt like the opportunity was slipping through his fingers, instead. He felt like he’d done something wrong. 

He slowly sat up, too – mirroring the other boy to redo his Levis, swallowing shallowly. 

“I do something?” He asked, voice hoarse. 

“No, no. You definitely didn’t! I just don’t know if right now is the right time, after…I mean. I don’t want you to be upset. That’s all,” Steve replied. He reached out between them to take Billy's hand. Like a reassurance. Like a promise. Billy felt a nervous tightness within him begin to ease, with Steve's hand hot and dry within his own trembling one. His thumb stroked the side of Billy's, and that? That felt like a promise, too. 

“Why don’t we set up the tree?” Steve leaned over, bracing his other large, soft palm against the side of his face. “And we could just relax a while.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, alright. If you’re sure.” And it felt…okay. Because Harrington wasn’t saying no, and he wasn’t stopping things outright - he was holding his hand. He wasn’t having some gay panic or running for the hills. He just didn’t want Billy to be having some big…freak out. Which made sense. Billy swallowed and nodded, throat tight. 

They slowly got up together, and Billy was still hard in his damn jeans, and he knew Steve was too. He had to adjust them, but he knew he’d get soft sooner rather than later – especially if they were going back out into the cold to bring the tree back inside. 

“Hey…” Billy said after a second. He’d never really….been with anybody that was okay to wait. That wanted to wait until Billy was alright or whatever. Somebody that gave a shit, he guessed. “Thanks or whatever.” He said, rubbing a hand against his neck, and he was rewarded with a blinding smile from Harrington. 

“It’s Christmas. Right? Want you to be happy.” 

“Y’know – Susan is making Christmas cookies and shit for Christmas, and we’re just hanging around tomorrow. Maybe I could call her and – dunno. You wanna come over? You don’t have to sit around here until the dinner at Henderson’s tomorrow. Could come over to my place,” Billy said.

Steve’s eyebrows lifted high on his forehead. “I – what? Seriously?”

“Sure. Don’t think she’d care, likes having folks around to dote on and shit. If you want.” 

“Yeah. Yeah I’d really like that.” 

Billy already knew what Susan would say - but he made the call anyway. 


End file.
